AuThursday – Bea Teal

Tell us a little about yourself and your background?

I’m Bea, and I’m Italian. My favorite color is teal. Hence, my pen name. When I’m not writing, I’m teaching Italian as a Second Language, reading, or traveling. The inspiration for Painting Stars, my first book in English, came from the time I spent in Michigan as an exchange student. I live on the shores of Lake Maggiore in northern Italy with my husband.

How do you make time to write?

“Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.” Václav Havel

With a lot of hope and willpower.

Do you believe in writer’s block?

“Nobody said it was easy” the Scientist, Coldplay.

I write in my second language. Yes, I do believe in writer’s block, and I have a language barrier on top of that.

Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.

Love in all its forms. Found family. HEA. I love the connection between reader and character. I love stories that are warm, witty, and uplifting.

How are you publishing your recent book and why? 

Indie. Traditional feels like a pipe dream at the moment.

Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert?  How does this affect your work?

Introvert. I struggle with self-promotion.

What is your favorite motivational phrase?

If somebody tells you “you can’t”, they’re showing you their limits. Not yours.

What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

“Don’t be discouraged if people don’t see your vision, your harvest. All they see from their perspective is that you’re watering a whole lot of dirt. They don’t SEE what seeds you’ve been planting with blood, sweat, tears and lack of sleep. Make sure you don’t abandon or neglect it because “they” don’t see it. You have to KNOW and believe for yourself. They don’t see the roots and what’s budding under the dirt. But it’s okay, because it’s NOT meant for them to see it. While you wait, MASTER it. You continue to do YOUR work and have unwavering faith! Remember why you started planting in the first place. Your harvest WILL come!” ― Yvonne Pierre, The Day My Soul Cried: A Memoir.

Don’t be discouraged if some of your friends and family members are unsupportive. They don’t share your passion. Find someone who does.

Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

I’m happy to hear from readers, and you can write me at: beatealauthor@gmail.com, but please consider that English isn’t my first language! 😉

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?

Our evening together begins with a romantic stroll.

Too bad I’m wearing impossibly high heels. The ones that look like a dream and feel like a nightmare. To upgrade my legs to first class, I squeezed my feet into the non-reclining middle seat in the last row of economy. These shoes were shaped on elves’ ears, not women’s toes.

The sunset on Lake Michigan is beautiful, but I’m too busy trying not to twist an ankle on the gravel, get a heel stuck in the drain grate, or sink into soft ground to fully appreciate it. Noah valiantly offers his arm in support, but he looks more like my keeper than my beau.

Once we get to the restaurant, things don’t improve.

There’s been a mix-up with the reservation, and our table isn’t ready, but they offer us a drink at the bar while we wait.

“Our stools are called waves,” the hostess explains. “The sleek, delicate curves are designed to evoke a visually fluid concept.”

Translation: there’s no backrest, no handles, no footrest, and man, do they swivel. I’m getting seasick. I’m on a slippery slope, pun intended.

When our table is finally ready, I’m glad to see the imaginary back of them.

“Fox, they brought us a plate with a dirty spoon in it,” Noah tells me.

“I think the course is what’s in the spoon.”

“I’m afraid I left my magnifying glass at home. What’s in the spoon, exactly?”

“It’s an amuse-bouche. A velouté.”

“I’m far from amused. It reminds me of the baby food Levi would spit in my face when he was a toddler. What’s the next one called?”

“Tiny temptations. A garden of Eden to share.”

“That’s just an excuse to throw a bunch of fruit and veggies together, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No? Then how do you explain this green mush with horns?”

“That’s an artichoke.”

“And this shaving cream gone sour?”

“That’s the cloud of heaven, aka goat cheese mousse, and stop making me laugh!”

“Why should I stop? I love your laugh.”

“‘Cause my belt is so tight from sitting I’m electrocuted every time I move.”

“Take it off, then.”

“I can’t. It’s holding my top and skirt together.”

“Why did I let you order the appetizer again?” Noah asks, taking a bite of the red apple.

“Because I let you order tenderloin à la Wellington wrapped in Parma ham as the main dish.”

And he was right, it was totally delicious, I think as the last nibble of puff pastry melts in my mouth.

“Since dessert is deconstructed tiramisù, how about taking it to go, Fox?” he lowers his voice and leans forward, “We can put it back together at home.”

“I like the way you think.”

AuThursday – Amy Curiston

Tell us a little about yourself and your background?

I have worked in the Healthcare industry for 30 years then went back to college where I rediscovered my love of writing. I am a mother of four with 1 rambunctious grandbaby. Creativity has always fed my soul whether crafting, decorating cakes or writing. Many characters have lived in my head for years begging me to tell their stories. After filing countless notebooks, I finally finished my first full manuscript. I now have 3 books published on Amazon and am working on my fourth

How do you make time to write?

It is always a challenge. Between the needs of family and my day job. Evenings are my most productive time. I try to set aside two hours each night.

Do you believe in writer’s block?

Certainly, there are times the story isn’t flowing. It can be frustrating. Sometimes you have to let it sit for a day or two.

Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.

Romance is the foundation, with a focus on family dynamics and how they shape us and affect our relationships. Stories of single parenthood, redemption arcs, and later-in-life romance are part of what I’ve written. I have set my stories in the past and the present. Love is the cornerstone of life. It feeds our souls. Family, friends, and lovers are the people who give life purpose. I’m also suckered for a happy ending.

How are you publishing your recent book and why? 

I have published independently so far. The way things are anymore, agents and publishers want a story that has been edited and polished and a writer who has established a social media presence, building an audience. For me, if I am doing the work I would rather maintain control of the finished product and the timeline.

Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert?  How does this affect your work?

I enjoy talking to people, sharing stories, and making people laugh. Inspiration comes from many places including the people I meet. My family would say, I have never met a stranger. That said, I am also comfortable in my own company. Having time to myself is important to me to indulge my creativity.

What is your favorite motivational phrase?

You can edit a bad page, but there is no editing a blank page.

What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

Just start writing. Don’t be afraid to put your ideas on paper. Also read as much as you can. For me, free writing is a great tool to work through ideas.

Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

amycuriston.com, my Facebook group; Amy Curiston Author and Instagram

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share?

The sweetest torture is wanting what you can’t have.

Luke Saello walks a thin line, managing properties in Boston’s North End. He must remain cordial with the notorious Murabito family without being drawn into their illegal dealings. He could have left, returned to Miami after his girlfriend was murdered, but he is determined to find her killer. The last thing he needs is to deal with a mafia princess.

She wants to rent the old bakery space he owns and when Anthony Murabito asks; you make it happen. The woman is supposed to marry Murabito’s son Tony, who has made it clear to Luke he better keep his hands off. He figures this won’t be a problem since spoiled, vapid women were not his thing. Unfortunately, she isn’t at all what he is expecting.

Billie Palmieri has spent her life trying to distance herself from her father. When her parents divorced, she found solace with Nonna M, as all the kids had called her. She learned the joy of baking at the grandmotherly woman’s side, and now that she is grown, Billie wants to reopen the bakery that meant so much to her. That is the only reason she returned to Boston, certainly not to be manipulated and used by her father, so he can gain more power.

She has no trouble resisting Tony’s advances, but her new landlord is another story. The man looks more like an enforcer for Murabito, making her question his motives. She’s determined to keep him at arm’s length, but as trouble finds its way to her door, he insists on coming to her rescue.

Billie fights her attraction, fearing getting involved with her will put Luke in danger. Threats have been made, and she is determined to protect him, but there may be more to fear than the enemy they know.

EXCERPT

Billie

Luke stands and starts pacing the room, finally stopping in front of me and kneeling down.

  “You need to tell me. Whatever it is, I want to help.” His voice is gentle, his eyes holding mine. It’s painful to look at him, knowing I have to let him go before we even explore this.

  “I need you to stay away from me, all of you.”

  “The hell I will,” Luke grinds out as he takes my face in his hands.

   “I won’t be responsible for anyone getting hurt again.” Pushing Luke back, I run to the door, grabbing my coat on my way out. I’m being a coward, but I can’t look at any of them right now, especially Luke. Downstairs, I raise my hand to hail a cab as Luke bursts out of the building.

  “You don’t get to say something like that and then take off, Billie. We need to talk about this.” He holds one of my arms as I watch him trying to control his frustration.

  “There isn’t anything to talk about. Tony made it clear. This won’t end well for you. For all I know, he set up the break in.”

  “Well, I can’t live with you sacrificing yourself to that asshole, not when I… when we’ve gotten this close.” His hands are on my face again and he kisses me with a ferocity I haven’t felt from him before, and I can’t help but reciprocate. I want this, how he makes me feel as he presses close, lifting me from the ground, deepening the kiss. My feet dangle as I lose myself in him.

  “I’m not letting you go.” He growls against my lips, setting me back down before pulling me toward his SUV. We drive in silence back to my apartment, each glancing at the other as we process what just transpired between us. When we reach the third floor of my building, I see a simple white envelope taped to my door. 

  The tape pulls a strip of paint off the door as I take it down. Something I’ll have to touch up since my landlord here is nowhere near as attentive as the one hovering behind me.

 I unlock the door, but Luke insists on going before me to check if anything is amiss. 

  “Take it easy, cowboy. It’s probably from Falco announcing a rent increase.”

  “You know… I have a guest room,” he says, bending down to nuzzle my neck. His beard tickles as his full lips brush my skin, then I feel his teeth. “Actually, I have a king-size bed that would be much more comfortable.”

  “That’s sweet, but I would feel terrible making you sleep in your own guest room.” He growls, spinning me around to look up at him. 

  “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to rush things. Now, about you trying to get rid of me…”

  “Luke, you know the sort of people we’re dealing with. Tony was very specific. You face down in the Charles river was the image he painted and I can’t live with that.” I’m trembling with rage, a little fear mixed in for good measure. I wrap my arms around myself, squeezing hard, but I can’t make it stop. “You need to go. This isn’t good for either of us. We should just stop this before it starts.”

  “Before it starts. Are you serious? We are way past the starting line, Billie. At least I am. You telling me this isn’t real to you?” Luke is standing too close, crowding me. The smell of him, his warmth all threatens to take me under, where I’ll lose myself forever. “Well, you gonna answer me?”

  Hurt and anger flash in his eyes as he stares down at me. I continue to shake, stepping away from him, needing the space to think.
  “Please,” I whisper. I don’t even know what I’m pleading for, but he decides for me.

Luke

  This night has not gone as I expected. I wanted to shake some sense into her, but she looked so broken at that moment. Arms wrapped around herself like a shield, I didn’t think she would let me touch her. Anger welled when she said we should stop before we start. Then she uttered one word; please. So I did the thing I said I wouldn’t. I walked out on her.

  Now I’m sitting here with a half empty bottle of vodka in my hand watching the Celtics lose in overtime. How do I keep screwing things up? I know what I want, but it’s always just out of reach. With Jenny, I had the family, but not the love. With Billie, I can see the entire package. Not that I’m ready to bring the “L” word into things yet, but I already feel a deep connection with her I’ve never had with anyone else. There’s just too much bullshit circling around us. There has to be a way for us to be together without all this drama. Maybe I could talk to her father. If Joe Palmieri sees my intentions are honorable, would he intervene? Sure, and I could pitch for the Red Sox next season. Who am I kidding? Billie’s father doesn’t care what’s best for her. If he did, he never would have offered her up to a jerk like Tony.

   Who’s the jerk now? I never should have left like that. She’s scared, trying to protect everyone but herself. There has to be a way to make this right. I start a text then think better of it. I know it’s late, and she’s probably in bed, but I need to hear her voice. The line connects and I wait. Two rings, three, four, then her voicemail kicks in. Damn it. I hang up and dial again. After three tries, my gut is tied in knots. This can’t be happening again. Get a grip, Saello. She’s pissed, so she isn’t picking up. One more try. Still going to voicemail. 

  I flick off the TV, leave the bottle on my coffee table and grab my coat. Not a good idea to drive, so I hoof it the two blocks to Billie’s apartment. Looking up, there are no lights on, so she’s probably asleep. I don’t care. Could be the vodka talking, but I need to see her. At her door, I hesitate, wondering if this is a bad idea. I know it is. Knock, knock, knock. My heart kicks up as I hear the deadbolt turn. One half of her beautiful face greets me as she opens the door as far as the chain will allow.

  “It’s after midnight and I have to be up in a few hours.”

  “Please let me in. I was an idiot.”

  “You woke me up for that revelation? Wonderful. Go home Luke.” She tries to shut the door, but I jam my foot in the small space.

  “I shouldn’t have left. I know you were telling me to, but I still shouldn’t have left like that.” She studies me for a minute before telling me to move my foot. When I do, she shuts the door and I figure I’m screwed, until I hear the chain rattle. The door swings open and I face Billie in all her warm, sleepy glory, her hair snarled like she’s been restless. She’s wearing purple pajama pants with fluffy sheep all over them. The sweater she’s wearing is too big, the neck sliding down to expose one shoulder. When she catches my stare, she tries to fix it, but I’m on her in a heartbeat.

  My hands dive into her messy hair as I kiss her, dragging her against me. I kick the door shut, turning her so her back is against it, then turn the lock.

  “This isn’t over cara mia. No one is running me off, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

AuThursday – Alivia Fleau

Tell us a little about yourself and your background?

I’m a Victorian-era historical romance writer living on a farm in Australia. I have 4 awesome dogs, 14 chickens, including one named Persephone who is my favourite, and a loving husband. And too many sheep to name!

How do you make time to write?

I get up early, sometimes as early as 4am. I take leave from work, use lunch hours, or in the evenings I write if I have the energy.

Do you believe in writer’s block?

I believe in creative problems, the trick is to have a cache of tools to tackle them with. A walk, swim, music, I do a LOT of baking when I’ve got a writing issue. And sometimes, you just gotta put your bum in the chair.

Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.

I write historical romance. I love research, I love history, but I’m also a sucker for a good pash or seeing two people fall in love.

How are you publishing your recent book and why?

Indie all the way. I love the freedom of indie, the speed, and also the close connection with readers.

Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert?  How does this affect your work?

I’m an introvert, but not shy. For me, being an introvert is about balancing my energy levels between being with others, and being alone.

What is your favorite motivational phrase?

Don’t get it right, get it written.

What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

Start, learn, embrace failure, celebrate every success. Because the knocks come hard on the heels of a win.

Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

Aliviafleur.com

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?

You have become something of a marvel, haven’t you?’ Hamish looked up and down the table.

‘Setting a table is not a challenge. You just lift things with your hands and place them.’ She pulled a corked flask of lemonade from the basket and set it with a flourish. ‘See?’

‘Hilarious,’ he said, then took another bite. ‘Not only this. I mean all of your accomplishments. World traveller. Fundraiser. Businesswoman,’ he added in a hush. ‘And caring for your father. You really are a goddess. Do you have supernatural abilities I should be worried about?’

‘I wish. I am afraid it’s just me, although today is Elise’s work. I am only here to help with the table.’ She couldn’t help but smile, her heart flushing with pride. So much of her work went unnoticed, or had to be hidden, and even a little praise made her glow.

‘When do you sleep?’ he continued, his voice still tinged with awe. ‘And when do you have fun?’

‘Fun?’ Iris frowned. ‘I have fun. I am having fun right now.’

He gave an exaggerated eye roll. ‘Proper fun. Like what we used to have. Surely the wild girl of Honeysuckle Street can still cause mischief?’

She closed the lid on the hamper with a snap. ‘The wild girl grew up a long time ago, I’m afraid. It’s just boring old me and my numbers now.’

Hamish leaned over the table. ‘I don’t believe it. The wild girl’s still in there. I’ll coax her out.’

First Friday Lunch – All about April

AuThursday – G. A. Anderson

Tell us a little about yourself and your background?

I’m a self-employed behavioral health consultant, mom, and wife. I’ve been writing since I was in college and just had my debut novel published. South of Happily, a light-hearted story about the secrets and pain that send the life of a first-generation Hungarian American sideways.

How do you make time to write?

In between work, family, and caring for my aging mother. It’s taken me 20 years to write this book.

Do you believe in writer’s block?

Yes!

Tell us a bit about the genre you write and why you love it.

Fiction and humor. I believe people like to read stories they can relate to. Not too close, but bits and pieces need to touch you in some way. Humor, dry humor—it’s how I think, I have no way to keep it out of my writing. I recently got a review saying: “I laughed, I cried, and my cheeks hurt by the end of the book.”

How are you publishing your recent book and why? 

Published by Black Rose Writing. No agent. The book is available at all the usual booksellers.

Are you an Introvert or an Extrovert?  How does this affect your work?

Introvert. I’m more comfortable writing down what I think than telling you or making a speech. Working on this…as I’ve had to make a few speeches and I’m going to be on a few authors’ panels this spring.

What is your favorite motivational phrase?

There was an old Michael Jackson song about being backed into a corner…having nowhere to go and needing to just stand up and do it. I still remember hearing that when I was about 15, and it stays with me today.

What advice would you give to aspiring writers?

Don’t do it for the money.

Where can readers find you on the World Wide Web?

www.anderson-author.com , Facebook, TikTok and Instagram

Do you have an excerpt you’d like to share with us?

Wrinkled, white-haired people, who in my youth, told stories about some mysterious past while Mom shushed them and covered my ears. My grandmother was the exception. She’d smile, pinch my cheeks, and say in broken English, “go finding your happily”.